


Kill x Switch

by orphan_account



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Assassination, Banter, Blood and Violence, Dialogue Heavy, Eventual Smut, Fight Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Hisoka's Bungee Gum Nen Ability (Hunter X Hunter), Inner Dialogue, Introspection, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Meteor City | Ryuuseigai (Hunter X Hunter), Murder, Nen (Hunter X Hunter), Overthinking, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Illumi was a perfectly crafted assassin. He was swift, calculated, and always executed his jobs perfectly. Until his life got flipped around, when he was assigned to do a series of assassinations in Meteor City. Maybe things didn't have to be so cut and dry. Hisoka certainly didn't think so.*takes place 6 years before the start of the manga*
Relationships: Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 29
Kudos: 195





	1. Chapter 1

_ Locate the target. Track them to a prime location. Kill the target. Dispose of the body. In and out, untraceable. _

Illumi Zoldyck was first and foremost, just an assassin. 

He’d been doing jobs like this all of his life. Trained from a young age to refine his skills, it wasn’t a brag to say he was good at what he did. At eighteen years old, he found himself taking a trip to Meteor City of all places, for a series of lower profile assassinations. Normally, he wouldn’t bother himself with such requests, but as there were a notable amount of them within a short period of time, he might as well get them done with instead of sending one of his siblings out for them. 

His first target was a woman in her 50s, a conjurer. Illumi didn’t need to look up the profile to take a closer look. He didn’t like to read too much into the personal life of his targets. Not that it would, but there was always the slight possibility it could emotionally compromise him. Assassins worked best when they had no connections to their targets, positive, negative, or otherwise. 

It was just a job. 

Now slinking through the shadows in an alleyway between two apartment buildings, Illumi had eyes on his target, who had paused outside the entrance to pick up a newspaper and smoke. She was all alone, oblivious to the world around her, and to her imminent fate. Piece of cake. Reaching into his pocket, Illumi thumbed around two of the balls of his pins, feeling the smooth spherical circle on the pads of his fingers. These ones would compromise the target before he would go for the lethal injection. To think, something as small as the head of a pin could cause the demise of an entire person. 

“You don’t want to do that.”

The words pierced his mind similarly to his own pins, eliciting a frozen reaction in Illumi. He tensed his grip on his pins, rolling the handles around between his fingers for extra dexterity in case he needed to do a quick stab or toss; he needed all of the options he could get. Versatility would be on his side. His back was to one wall, and his feet planted firmly on the ground, which left a possible attacker from the left, right, in front, or above. 4 possible directions. Illumi’s eyes darted from left to right, as quickly as he could, before confirming that the voice had indeed come from above him. 

He glanced up and saw the railing for a fire escape. Whoever was bothering him was definitely not his target. Disposing of them would make the job go smoother, especially with how distracting they were being. Getting interrupted on a job was never welcome, and could only spell trouble. It was inefficient. It would make  _ him _ inefficient. He could not let himself get distracted. He had to figure this out and stop it as soon as he could. Yes, this was a necessary detour. 

Illumi quickly turned around and fluidly jumped up, using his upper body strength to pull himself silently up and over the railing before regaining his stance. He spotted a shadow a few steps above him.

This would be an easy kill. One pin to throw as a distraction, two to plunge directly into the neck which would inevitably be left open. Forcing a common reaction to plan for the final kill was easier than using brute strength to get to the target, and it was a lot cleaner. He didn’t like to get his hands dirty, the feeling of sticky blood against his hands was always an unpleasant texture, not to mention the smell and how it tended to stain before it dried. 

The pins left his fingers, one by one, in a careful succession, planned exactly as he had decided beforehand. What he hadn’t planned, was that this man he was attacking was  _ not _ giving the common reaction. He didn’t dodge. In fact, he hardly moved. And thus, his neck was decidedly not available. Illumi backed up into the railing of the fire escape, the cold metal pressing against his back once again reminding him that he was quite a few feet above the ground. He could bail, right now; the fall wasn’t that bad. 

The man before him held one of his precious pins in his hand between two of his sharp nails, rolling the handle around as he looked at it. He was older than Illumi, but not by much. Not too much taller either, but a bit more  _ built _ , as Illumi immediately noted by his wider shoulders. His hair was red like a fox’s, and down, with some bangs covering his forehead. On each cheek were a painted star and teardrop, one blue, one yellow. Tasteless. 

“I offer you advice and you come to kill me?” 

The mysterious man brought the head of the pin up to his mouth, tongue gracing over the yellow as if he were licking a lollipop. 

“Interesting.” 

Maybe he  _ wasn’t _ going to be an easy kill. He could probably still kill him, no doubt about that, but it would be more of a fight then the amount of energy he was willing to expend on this mission. He still had his job to take care of, but how could he do that if he wound up limping into place? 

Illumi turned his attention back to the present instead of the possible what ifs of their encounter. Judging by the man’s current posture, he wasn’t in any hurry to strike back. Was this a ploy in order to get him to lower his guard? Though his face didn’t express it, as years of training allowed perfect masking of his inner emotions, he was rather perplexed by the individual standing before him. Was he powerful? What was he after? How long had he been following him? Many questions raced around in his mind, but none of them seemed to be the right one to ask first. Illumi decided to play it safe. He wasn’t going to play any mind games here. This man was still interfering with his job, and thus was a hindrance. 

“Advice? You interfered with my job.” Illumi didn’t know why he was gracing him with a response, but he did know that his time frame was running out. The moment his target entered the building was the moment he’d have to come up with a new plan of action for how to kill her. 

“I can tell you’re not from around here, you don’t know the ins and outs of a place like this,” said the man, pulling out a deck of cards. They fit together nicely as he shuffled them against each other. It was a nice sound, too. “For example, I know that if you were to attack that woman down there, you wouldn’t get very far.”

“You underestimate my abilities-”

“Watch,” said the man, holding out one of his playing cards before dropping it. The card floated slowly down to the ground like a leaf in the wind . Illumi’s eyes widened slightly in shock as it seemed to pass directly through the woman before it settled down on the ground. “Now, you’re probably wondering what this means-”

“What does this mean?”

This was impossible. He had to be playing some kinds of tricks on him. But tricks or not, he needed to deduce his motive sooner or later, if he wanted any chance of getting rid of him. 

The man smiled and put a finger up to his lips, as if to tell Illumi that they were about to be sharing secrets of some sorts. Secrets were good, if he was the one learning about them. He didn’t have many. Secrets were things people kept hidden because they had a reason not to tell them. Illumi kept secrets because he had no one to tell things to. 

“Did you think I would readily give away such information for free? To be quite honest, I’ve been following you since you entered town, newcomers are always somewhat interesting, and there’s always a slight chance I get to fight them,” the man said. As quick as lighting, Illumi spotted a fatal mistake as it happened, yet frozen in his tracks he stared ahead. He felt the man’s finger brush a lock of hair from his face. 

_ Grab his arm, snap it, then massage the break as he writhes. Destroy him. Plunge all three pins into his neck. Kill him. End it.  _

Illumi’s heart rate skyrocketed. He tried to keep calm during his killing, but sometimes, he felt as if there was a lack of control. He hated killing like that. A lack of control meant that it wasn’t just a job. Sure, he could be completing the job itself, but an assassin was supposed to be ruthless, cold, completely emotionally unattached from the killing itself. Rage, or hatred, or fear impacted the ability, turning it more personal into something it wasn’t. Just a job. It needed to be just a job, nothing more, nothing less. 

For the entirety of the brief second that the man’s finger brushed up against Illumi’s cheek, he felt as if he were squirming inside while being shackled to the railing. This is why he could never be touched. Physical contact was disgraceful. Brushing against people in public was heinous. But being touched here, in broad daylight, with  _ purpose _ was outlandish, and downright insulting. 

_ Run.  _

Illumi bit his lip from the inside. 

_ Run. _

What if he didn’t want to run? Illumi looked up at the man in front of him, staring into his sly yellow eyes. He had caught one of his pins. Normal people didn’t  _ do _ that. And here, right now, he was toying with him. There was something he wanted, but Illumi couldn’t place his finger on what it was. There was one thing for certain: he hadn’t killed Illumi yet. 

“Cat got your tongue?” asked the man, with a smirk. “I’ll do you the courtesy of introducing myself. I’m Hisoka.”

“I don’t care,” said Illumi, snubbing his nose up at him. But instead of looking pissed, Hisoka looked more  _ amused _ with his narrow yellow eyes filled with mischief. “If you’re going to interrupt my business then at least make it worth it.”

“Haven’t I already?” asked Hisoka, leaning in closer. “ _ Illumi.” _

Illumi’s mouth sealed shut. He wasn’t scared. Assassins didn’t get scared. He had more training than almost anyone else on the entire continent. There was no way that this Meteor City resident could best him in combat, it was simply laughable. Yet he couldn’t help but feel a draw of uneasiness creeping up inside him, taking root and starting to grow. There was something off. He shouldn’t be feeling this much emotion, not when he was trained not to. Hisoka smirked, almost impish.

“I did tell you I’d been following you since you entered the city,” he said, fanning through a few of his cards. “You proved interesting enough for me to want to stay around.”

Interesting was certainly a word. Perhaps he meant it as worthy. 

“If I give you information will you leave me alone? I need to do my job,” said Illumi, slightly annoyed as his target or…. At least what he had  _ presumed _ was his target, was starting to get antsy below him with her newspaper and the tapping of her foot. Perhaps bartering with him would work. 

“That’s the risk, isn’t it?” asked Hisoka, coming to stand next to him as he looked over the edge of the railing. Illumi automatically shifted out of the way a little, the cloth on their arms brushing ever so slightly.“So, why do you want to kill her?”  
“I was hired to.”

Short, and sweet. Avoiding unnecessary information was always a benefit, yet it seemed to have the opposite effect. Hisoka’s playful eyes showed that he was all the more enticed by the mystery of the situation. 

“Oh? So you’re an assassin. Interesting, explains why you’re, you know,  _ like that _ ,” said Hisoka, moving his hand over his face. Illumi looked at him, blankly, but he knew exactly what he meant. He had been told it over and over again. He couldn’t forget. It was his life’s purpose, what he had been raised to do from the start. 

_ Cold. Emotionless. Calculated. A perfect killing machine.  _

“I mean it in the best possible way.”

Illumi avoided eye contact. It felt weird. Having a conversation with someone, who knew what he was, and still decided to talk to him, as if he were someone he was actually interested in having a conversation with. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking, I haven’t had a good fight in a while,” said Hisoka, cracking his knuckles. “I do happen to know that woman personally. Well, not  _ too _ personally, though I’m sure if I made an effort, I could... If you’re going to kill her anyways, would you mind if I played with her a bit first?”

“Yes, I would,” snapped Illumi. “She’s  _ my _ target, I’m not going to let you mess this up for me. It’s irresponsible to have a connection to the target, anyways. Killing is a job, and a job that needs the worker to be uncompromised. Now, tell me why you stopped me before I bring my pins back out.” 

“Can you honestly not tell? The woman down there, that is a mere illusion,” explained Hisoka. He gestured over with one of his cards. “A duplicate.”

“Okay, and? Are you implying that I’ve been following a fake lead? Surely you didn’t linger around for this long just to tell me that,” said Illumi. “Are you merely a diversion for her? Distracting me so she can get away? If you’re an accomplice, I’ll have no qualms about killing you.” Hisoka hummed in agreement. 

“But wouldn’t you have an attachment to me already?”

“I don’t care about you,” snapped Illumi. Hisoka raised an eyebrow. “What about this situation makes you think that I have spared more than a passing thought about your existence?”

“You feel a sort of resentment and annoyance that I’ve intruded upon your time,” added Hisoka. Illumi crossed his arms. It was a gesture he hadn’t quite gotten rid of, but it made him feel a bit better when he was feeling uncomfortable. And right now, he didn’t know quite what to feel. He shouldn’t have been feeling anything. 

_ Emotionless. Uncompromised. _

“I’ll simply forget that you’re an accomplice, and therefore you would no longer be my job to kill,” threatened Illumi. Hisoka smirked. Somehow, it didn’t feel hostile. It felt as if he appreciated the comment, as if he found some humor in it. He wasn’t trying to make a joke, so why did Hisoka find it funny? Why did he like it? He was confusing, perplexing, and daresay, interesting? The more Illumi conversed with him the less he understood about Hisoka. He wasn’t easy to predict. Normally death threats like that would scare the spines out of people, yet he enjoyed it? 

_ Abnormal. _

“Do you see that window over there,” Hisoka said, pointing one of his sharp fingernails at one of the windows on the fifth floor of the building. Illumi nodded in compliance. 

“What if I told you your target was in there?”

“I’d ask you why she left a copy of herself down at the bottom, then,” said Illumi, playing along with Hisoka’s game. Perhaps this was just the way he needed to talk with him. He could conform to it. It was easy to pretend to blend in with average people, so long as they didn’t get too close to him. He’d need to find Hisoka’s style, but it could be done. 

“Exactly. Why would she need to leave a visual of herself, in plain sight, out there? It doesn’t make sense, unless,” he said, tapping his nails against the railing. “It’s for an alibi of sorts.”

_ An alibi. _

“She’s a murderer,” deadpanned Illumi. Hisoka looked at him, brows knit together and mouth slightly agape. 

“Huh? What? No,” he said, running a hand through his own hair. “She’s having an affair and needs an alibi. How did you come up with  _ that _ ? Nevermind, I don’t know what kind of information you get about your victims, but I’ll bet whoever hired you was probably married to one of the lovebirds.”

“And you know this for a fact?” asked Illumi, preparing his pins. Hisoka’s theory was outlandish, but so was the woman’s duplicate. Did he simply disbelieve it because he didn’t  _ want _ to believe it? It was quite possible. 

“I’d call it more of a  _ theory _ , but it makes sense,” said Hisoka, hoisting himself up so he was sitting on top of the railing.

_ Push him off. He’ll stop talking. All the information has already been secured. He is of no use. Worthless.  _

Illumi blinked twice. He had a job to do. 

“Doesn’t really matter, though. She’ll eventually leave the building where her body double is waiting for her, and then continue on her merry way. You could kill her then,” suggested Hisoka. 

“Thanks, I guess. You saved me a bit of trouble,” said Illumi halfheartedly. He rested his arms on the railing next to where Hisoka was sitting and leaned over slightly, watching the door. Hisoka swung his feet back and forth, each narrowly missing the metal bars. 

“How come you didn’t kill me earlier.” 

Hisoka’s words broke Illumi’s concentration. He turned to look at him, slowly. 

“I had a plan to easily take you out for being annoying but after you caught my pin I decided it would be too much effort and decided to let you live,” said Illumi, decidingly leaving out the details about how he was still debating it. Mostly because he hadn’t secured a surefire plan for how to take him out. Perhaps if he thought of one, he’d do it, but as long as Hisoka wasn’t posing a threat, he could let him live. “How did you know I was going to do that?” Hisoka’s legs stopped swinging. 

“My my, you keep forgetting that I’ve essentially stalked you for hours before finally making my appearance,” said Hisoka as if it were something to be proud of. Illumi ignored that half of his comment. He wasn’t going to get mad for no reason. “I’ve seen you subdue about three people so far, tossing one pin and then stabbing with two others seems to be a common quick kill of yours for victims you still need to approach. There was a chance that you’d use an ability I hadn’t seen before, but I was prepared for that chance.”  
“Prepared? Is that how you caught my pin? They’re not that easy to see, and you grabbed it midair,” said Illumi, prying for information. If he asked the right questions, Hisoka might provide the right answers. Hisoka grinned. He held out his hands, palm up. 

“Drop one of your pins between my hands,” said Hisoka. 

“No.”

“Illumi, there aren’t many times a magician decides to reveal his secrets, it’s rather rude to refuse an offer,” said Hisoka, a sly smile upon his face. Illumi dropped one of his pins between Hisoka’s hands. Quivering slightly, the pin appeared to be suspended in midair. Quite peculiar. “My reflexes were part of it, yes, but I stopped your pin with my nen.” Illumi grabbed onto the pin and tried to pull it from its place, but it was stuck. Was it manipulation holding it there? Or perhaps transmutation. Judging his personality, transmuter seemed more likely than manipulator.

“Hmmm,” said Illumi, pulling harder on the pin. It wouldn’t budge. If this was some sort of material he had copied the properties of, it was at least durable. And subtle. He wouldn’t have expected a man as flashy looking as Hisoka to have a nen ability that was virtually invisible. Something that screamed power seemed more like him, alas he probably had his reasons. 

“I call it bungee gum, it has the properties of both rubber and gum,” said Hisoka, reciting off his little jingle. “People never see it coming.” It was as if he read Illumi’s mind. 

“I suppose,” said Illumi, still fixated with trying to get his pin back. Hisoka eventually released his bungee gum and Illumi pocketed the pin. 

“You’re not much of a conversationalist, are you?”

Illumi shrugged. 

“I never needed to be,” he said, still not taking his eyes off the doorway. He needed to decide if he would wait for the woman to come out or if he was going to find her inside the building himself. Hisoka hummed. 

“How long are you in town for?” asked Hisoka. “It’s honestly not such a bad city once you get to know it. I can show you all the fun parts.”

“What exactly is a ‘fun part’, I’d like to know what I’m signing up for.”

“It’s a surprise,” said Hisoka. 

“Fine. The exact duration that I’m staying in Meteor City is  _ also _ a surprise,” said Illumi, much to Hisoka’s dismay. Hisoka shut his mouth. Meteory City wasn’t exactly known for its tourism, of course, so naturally touring around it with Hisoka wasn’t the most appealing of activities in his mind. Except for some unexplained reason, it was. Had anyone else suggested it, he would be bored with the idea. But there was something about Hisoka that made him think that this could be interesting, at the very least. Either that, or he would have an attempt made on his life. A coin toss. 

“After we kill the old hag-”

_ Assassins work alone. Swiftly in, then out, leaving no trace of their presence.  _

“After  _ I _ kill her-”

_ Alone. _

“After  _ we _ kill her, I’ll show you around.” Hisoka smiled. Illumi didn’t have to be observant to tell that it wasn’t a smile of joy. It was likely one of arrogance, or pride. Something superficial. But then again, for someone who painted his face, and likely dyed his hair, so was the whole package. 

But that made him feel more authentic in a sense. 

Where other people would subtly alter themselves to fit a certain mold, Hisoka seemed to go over the top with his choice of clothing and expression, to the point where it didn’t seem as deceptive. He knew who he wanted to come across as, and he went with it. 

Who was he? Illumi caught a look at his reflection in one of the windows. His hair had grown out just below his ears, ruffled in the wind slightly. His wide eyes stared back at him. He’d been told he looked  _ blank _ , but Illumi didn’t quite like that expression. Blank implied that there was nothing going on behind those eyes. Locked away was perhaps a better description. His expressionless eyes were the result of perfect training in order to let him conceal his true emotions. 

People tended not to pay close attention to him. He liked it better that way, the less people that talked to him the less he tended to leave a presence, and the less likely he was to get suspected for the assassinations he performed. 

“Fine, I’ll allow it,” said Illumi. “But if you get in the way of my mission, I’ll kill you too.”

“I’d like to see you try.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“Who’s next on the list?” asked Hisoka, leaning over Illumi’s shoulder to steal a lick of his ice cream. Illumi scrunched up his nose comically to allow Hisoka to know that he disliked that action.

The assassination had been a success. 

Hisoka had taken him out for ice cream afterwards. “His treat”, as he put it. He’d already told Hisoka that this was unnecessary, but he’d insisted. Now, looking at the melting cone, he knew he shouldn’t have wanted it in the first place, but he had to admit to himself that he was at least disappointed that Hisoka had soiled it. 

“There are four more targets. I don’t want to do the next one for a few more days. I’m unfamiliar with the layout and how close everyone is to each other. In a bigger city like Yorknew, I could have taken all of these assassinations in one night, but if it’s a tighter knit community then the chances of me getting caught for assassinating in succession are higher,” explained Illumi. “Nevermind the chance that I still have to kill you so you don’t turn me in.” Hisoka laughed nervously. 

“If I promise you that I won’t tell anyone, would you spare me?”

“Do you think that you look like a man who keeps his word?” deadpanned Illumi. 

“Do you think that  _ you _ look like a man who believes in people keeping their word?” retorted Hisoka. The two of them exchanged a knowing glance of mutual acceptance. 

“You weren’t a hindrance when you were with me,” said Illumi, taking a lick of his ice cream. It was sweet,  _ too _ sweet, but he hardly tasted it to begin with. He wasn’t exactly paying attention to it.

“Can’t you just admit that I helped?” teased Hisoka. Illumi sighed and realized that he had forgotten to avoid licking the ice cream. Why bother, though, the damage was already done. He just hoped that Hisoka had a clean mouth, though judging their surroundings, “hoped” should have been swapped out with “prayed”. 

_ Assassins work alone. Swiftly in, then- _

“I suppose,” muttered Illumi. 

_ He’s not an assassin, he just kills for the fun of it. He’s inefficient. He’s- _

“You promised to show me around Meteor City, and not to turn me in, so I guess I can promise not to kill you,” said Illumi. “If you’ll take any value in that.”

“Well, a promise is a promise,” said Hisoka. “Whatever that means to you.”

The more Illumi hung around him, the more he seemed to  _ tolerate Hisoka _ , and daresay even enjoy his company. It was strange, the two of them could be no different. Assassins couldn’t have friends, obviously, he wasn’t that oblivious to the training his parents had given him. But whatever was happening with Hisoka, could that not be considered a friendship? No, it was just because he was convenient in aiding in the assassinations, and because he was at least somewhat interesting to keep around. They weren’t friends. 

_ Can’t be friends.  _

Hisoka confused Illumi. Yet the more he learned about him, the more he realized that for someone who seemed as open as he was, he knew next to nothing. Maybe that’s just how things were going to be between them. He didn’t need to know anything about his past in order to talk to him, but there were a few things that rather perplexed him. A few days after the second murder, Hisoka had approached him with a rather odd question. 

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“I can forgo sleep for days on end, and should I need to find a place to rest, I’m sure I could find a safe spot,” said Illumi. Hisoka merely nodded. But when he  _ didn’t _ offer for Illumi to stay at his place, Illumi felt a twinge of frustration. He didn’t want to stay with Hisoka. That would be putting him out, and he’d likely need to ditch him in order to finish the rest of his jobs. Yet something about how he didn’t even  _ offer _ bothered him. Did he not want Illumi to come over? Did he not trust him enough to let him know where he lives? Did he simply not have a place to sleep either? Did he not realize that it was common courtesy to offer this? Illumi stopped contemplating on the reasons for Hisoka’s lack of hospitality. This was Meteor City, afterall, it was probably some combination of all of the above. 

Though should the roles have been switched, would he have offered Hisoka to stay at his place? Illumi considered this for a bit longer than he was comfortable with. Was he seriously considering letting Hisoka into his place of slumber, a vulnerable place where he could be killed in his sleep? Though that would make him a hypocrite in relation to his earlier points. He decided to leave it indecisive. 

_ Failure to make a decision is just pushing it off for later. _

“It’s probably better anyways that you don’t check into a motel anywhere because then they’d have your name on record, and if news gets out that there’s a  _ Zoldyck  _ here, I’d find it rather interesting to see how that plays out,” Hisoka said ominously, leading Illumi through the piles of junk so they could get a better view to watch people fight the robots they had built from all the discarded trash here. 

It was repurposing, in a sense. Taking things that were seen as worthless and putting use to them, even if that use was beating down other people’s creations. It said a thing or two about the types of people that tended to end up here. Illumi found his eyes drifting away from the robots and more towards Hisoka. How had he been shaped here? He was certainly cocky, so he hadn’t been ground to a pulp. Or maybe this was a semblance of what he once was. 

“I’m not worried, I’m a skilled fighter, and can comfortably say I’d stand a chance even if you weren’t helping me,” said Illumi. Hisoka raised an arched eyebrow at him.

“Theoretically, if you were jumped, what do you think I would do?” asked Hisoka. Illumi glared at him.

“Well, I know that if  _ you _ were jumped, I might as well join in,” he deadpanned. Hisoka grinned at this. 

“You mean it with love~” he said in his sing-songy voice. 

“If that’s what we’re calling it.” Illumi looked away from him and towards the robot fight, watching as the one with a spinning midsection was ramming the other one into the walls of the arena. Hisoka said things he didn’t mean, that were coded. He couldn’t possibly mean  _ love _ love. That wasn’t possible. He wasn’t cut out for those kinds of things. He didn’t have the emotional weakness associated with  _ loving _ . Loving was for fools, who let other people get the best of them.

_ See people’s vulnerable sides, and they’re just as good as dead. _

Did Hisoka have a vulnerable side? And was this it? Was it truly a confession? Did he  _ want _ it to be?

Illumi suddenly felt a queasy feeling from inside as he looked over at Hisoka, who was glancing over at him with a softer gaze. No, it couldn’t be, it was just a joke. It was a response to a  _ threat _ , there was nothing serious about it. But if that was just how Hisoka operated, then-

He didn’t have to think about it now. Illumi pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind as if he were sticking them in a metaphorical junk drawer. But such as with any junk drawer, he would need to organize it eventually. But that was for the ever looming “later”. 

_ Failure to make a decision is just pushing it off for later. _

As much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself, some of his favorite moments of this job, if he could even call it that, were the moments between kills where he could just sit and talk to Hisoka. It felt nice to have someone he could say  _ anything _ to without having to watch his tongue. The words started to come easier, too, now that he didn’t have to be as cautious. Sometimes when he was alone his mind would drift to rather unorthodox topics, but with Hisoka, he could just start talking and expect an interesting conversation afterwards. Hisoka understood him, or at least had a sort of mutual respect. 

“You like to dress up,” prefaced Illumi, watching as Hisoka reapplied his signature star and teardrop in the bathroom mirror. Illumi had sat up on the counter, legs dangling off. The assassination had been a success again, naturally, but Hisoka  _ insisted _ he got to fix his makeup before he was seen in public again, something about “maintaining appearances”. To who he was maintaining his appearance for, Illumi would never know. “Is it more of a costume or a sense of self expression.” 

Hisoka dragged the brush on the teardrop, perfecting its shape once again. He looked at Illumi through the mirror, making an uncanny eye contact with him.

“Isn’t that the same thing?” asked Hisoka, putting the end of the brush in his mouth as he opened up his pink face paint. 

“No, a costume is when you’re dressing up like something you’re not,” said Illumi. 

“So you’re wearing a costume right now.”

Hisoka went back to outlining the star on his right cheek. Illumi looked over his shoulder towards the mirror more intently. This wasn’t a costume, this was what he  _ really _ looked like, how could it be? His eyes traced over the short black hair, bangs falling into his eyes, as well as his plain clothes. They helped him blend in. Mother certainly hated them, but he couldn’t let her dress him forever, he was an adult. But was this a costume? Illumi touched the glass as his reflection did the same. This  _ was _ him he saw across the glass, but the more he looked the more he understood what Hisoka meant about it. Someone could get one glance at Hisoka and know  _ exactly _ what to expect from him. He wore his entire essence through his appearance, right for everyone to see. It was a costume, it was over the top, but it was also an extension of himself. What did he have to prove for it? His essence surely wasn’t just blending into the background. He was  _ different _ from most people, not invisible. 

“I have another ability I haven’t told you about,” said Illumi, pulling out a few of his pins. 

“Is it that you can sew?” joked Hisoka. 

“No. I  _ can _ , but I think you’d find it a lot more interesting than that,” said Illumi, hopping off the counter so he could get a better view of himself from the front. He took a few of the needles out and rubbed the tips between his fingers. It had been a while since he’d had to do this. It was an imperfect technique, and therefore shouldn’t be used on a job unless it has been completely mastered. Illumi plunged a few of the needles into his skin, twisting them and feeling his body contort beneath them. Altering his body to look perfectly like someone else’s was incredibly difficult because even the smallest of issues would throw their appearance into uncanny valley territory. But creating something himself, well, he had full creative liberty with that. That’s probably why Father hated it so much. 

Illumi sighed as he put the last of the pins in. Though he could alter his shape without them, the pins provided some relief and helped hold the shape better so he wouldn’t be as exhausted. His body was constantly trying to revert back without them, and the pins helped take off the stress. He looked over towards Hisoka, who paused drawing his star, still needing to fill in the middle parts. 

“So are you finally showing me your true form now, or is this a costume? Another persona, perhaps,” said Hisoka, walking around to inspect the new figure before him. “Does he have a name?”

“Gittarackur.”

“Now this is definitely someone I’d want to fight,” said Hisoka, looking over all the pins. “He looks ruthless. Or at least more than your other form does.”

“I’ll pretend that was a compliment.”

_ So you’re wearing a costume right now. _

Though he’d shifted out of his Gittarackur form, the thought still remained in his mind. Was Gittarackur a more true form of himself than his default? Both of them expressed different parts of himself. His default form was useful for assassinations, someone who blends into the background and is only seen when he needs to be, whereas the Gittarackur persona was a lot sharper, unforgiving, cruel. Were these traits of his? Everyone has them to some extent. Was there even one way to express his full self? Illumi dwelled on this for the moment. He had the ability to change shape, why conform to a single appearance to present his “self” when he could change for when he needed to. It was more convenient this way anyways. 

Though he assumed he blended in well, sometimes there were just incidents that were unavoidable. Illumi liked to think of himself as a person who couldn’t get bothered by much. Afterall, it helped with maintaining his unreadable expression. Except sometimes, people could get under his skin so far that he couldn’t just pull them out. 

“He’s pissing me off,” scowled Illumi, glaring over at the man a few booths down at the market who was looking at some decorative pipes. His glare was almost sharp enough to cut him, which he so hoped it would do.

“Hmmm,” hummed Hisoka, glancing over once again, before going back to look at the other types of cloth being sold by this booth.

“He thinks he can just come up to me and call me a-”

“Pretty porcelain doll that needs a good owner, yes, I know you’ve been complaining for about twenty minutes now,” said Hisoka, testing out the textures. “If he’s bothering you so much, just fight him.” He was  _ not _ a doll, and he certainly didn’t like the idea that someone could  _ own _ him. Not to mention the fact that porcelain was something that could easily break and crack, implying that he needed to be taken care of and coddled from the harsh world out here. On one hand it could be that he was noticing that Illumi  _ clearly _ wasn’t from Meteor City, but on the other hand, Illumi was certainly not having it.

“He’s not on my list, I can’t just  _ fight _ him,” scoffed Illumi. Hisoka raised an eyebrow at him as if what he said was incredibly stupid. What, did he expect him to throw hands with a stranger in the middle of the street?

“I like to fight people who piss me off,” said Hisoka. “Usually people don’t mess with me unless they think they can take me. I don’t know if you noticed, but a lot of people are intimidated by me.”

“Can’t relate,” said Illumi, blankly. At least Hisoka found that amusing. 

“What I’m trying to say is, if this guy is bothering you, why don’t you fight him? It’s Meteor City, not Yorknew, you can do that here,” said Hisoka. Illumi paused. Perhaps he could just challenge this dude to a fight, why the hell not. But another question made itself into his mind. Did Hisoka think he was from Yorknew? Or did he just assume he was at least familiar with it. If the former was true, did that imply that Hisoka himself was  _ from _ Meteor City?

“Did you grow up here?”

“Does it matter?” asked Hisoka. “I’m here now.” The answer was a nonanswer, but it was telling enough. Spending more time with Hisoka, Illumi could pick up on certain cues of his. The way he avoided the question meant that Illumi would have been actually intrigued by the answer, which meant that he  _ wasn’t _ from here. It made sense. While there were some people who grew up here, it wasn’t the most forgiving of environments, so people usually “ended up” here rather than willingly choosing to live here. 

“I wouldn’t have asked you a question if I didn’t care to know the answer,” said Illumi. “But apparently, you don’t care to give it to me.” Hisoka probably didn’t have anywhere he claimed to be from. And that was fine, just a bit odd. 

“Glad we could reach a compromise,” said Hisoka with a wink. Hisoka never talked about his past. For all the days that Illumi had known him, he not only found this a bit strange, but also appreciated it. Too many people were held up in the past. The things they would have done differently, their achievements, how things used to be better or worse. But Hisoka didn’t seem to care. He was free. 

Or perhaps it was the opposite. His past could have been littered with something so horrendous that he dare not even think about it, and that is why he was so locked up inside. Either or, he clearly didn’t express desire to talk about it, so Illumi would respect his wishes there. God forbid he try to dig into  _ Illumi’s _ past. He hadn’t talked about his assassin training ever before, but he didn’t know what sorts of things would come up if he started talking about it. 

Either way, Hisoka had sparked an idea, one that caught aflame in his mind. He could fight the man, sure, but would a fight really be catatonic enough? Would he even be able to draw out a fight?

_ Failure to make a decision is just pushing it off for later. _

Illumi winced as that pestering thought made its way back into his mind again. Later, later, later, later. He couldn’t keep pushing things off until this mysterious later, because later never seemed to come. It was always about to happen, no matter if it was in a few minutes, or a few days, there would always be a later. Just making a decision about this would be easy enough. Fight him, or don’t fight him. 

_ Fight him. _

Illumi felt a weird relief as he made the decision, as if it were one less thing for him to worry about. But now it just came time to assess the situation. His skillset wasn’t built for fighting, it was built for assassinating. His type of fight was one to the  _ death _ . That was still technically a fight, therefore it worked. Death could be merely a consequence of fighting. Illumi smirked to himself. This was going to be interesting. 

Illumi wove his way through the market, trailing the man for a few more stops as he thought back to the encounter earlier. How  _ dare _ he talk to him that way. Hisoka was right, he  _ should _ fight this bastard. It was no use getting this mad without doing something about it. Eventually, near the end of the open street market, the man began to walk down an alleyway, the perfect place for Illumi to trail behind him. Going away from the crowds would make this easier. 

_ Emotional kills are sloppy, imprecise, compromised. Do not compromise the job. _

Why shouldn’t he kill this man? He was  _ pissing _ him off, time and time again, to the point where he was becoming emotionally compromised, which would mess with his mission. If he got rid of him here and now, then he could calm down, and proceed with his actual job. This wasn’t part of the job, it was just a detour, it was setting the stage. And he was merely a casualty in the grand scheme of things. 

_ Ignore him _ . 

Illumi drew closer to the man, positioning his hands around his head. He grabbed, hard, before twisting it to the side, feeling the perfect crunch of every vertebrae he was snapping beneath the skin. He deserved it. He deserved it.

Illumi could kill “compromised”. He had just proved it to himself. It was swift and easy. He didn’t need to think of it just as a job, or clear his mind, he could do it just fine-

_ He didn’t deserve it _ . 

His hands were shaking. Not only his hands, but his legs felt as if they were going to give out from under him, as if the weight of everything he was holding up until now was going to cause him to come crashing down. No, this was no different than any other kill he had done. Assassinations were just murders with a price tag. This was no different. It couldn’t be different. 

He ended this man’s life because he was  _ annoying  _ him. He had been the one to decide that. Up until now, every kill he’d done had been premeditated, preplanned, and disconnected. He didn’t  _ care _ about this man, did he? No, it was different. 

Illumi felt a tear roll down his cheek, and brought one of his hands up to his face, wiping it away. But the more he seemed to wipe, the more they seemed to come. He brought both his hands up now and rubbed his eyes, as if to try to convince them to just  _ stop _ . 

Illumi closed his eyes and practiced his breathing exercises until his heart rate had returned to normal. He opened them, then grabbed the arms of the man he just murdered in cold blood, and tossed him into the dumpster, before slinking down on the wall and sitting there, looking down at his hands. 

He’d killed hundreds,  _ thousands _ , before. 

What the fuck was wrong with him. 

_ Cold. Emotionless. Calculated. A perfect killing machine. But not this time. _

“Did you just  _ kill _ him?” asked Hisoka, eyes widened just enough to cue Illumi into the fact that he truly was shocked. Of all the things that could have shocked Hisoka, it was odd this was one of them. He’d seen Illumi kill before, but never like this. He sighed as he looked over at Hisoka, feeling like he  _ should _ tell him to leave, but deep down, he wanted him to stay. Hisoka knew about him already. He knew what was going on. He was shocked by this, yet he didn’t leave, did this mean that Hisoka considered him… a friend?

_ Assassins don’t have friends. Can’t be friends. _

But assassins also don’t kill without a paycheck. 

“Do you have a problem with this?” asked Illumi, taking the subject away from himself and placing it more on how Hisoka was feeling. It was a good thing he got here  _ after _ Illumi had stopped crying. He didn’t know what would have happened if Hisoka had seen him. Would he have attacked Hisoka? He couldn’t discount the possibility. 

Hisoka shook his head, then ran his fingers through his hair as if he were trying to look contemplative before sitting down on the ground next to Illumi. But was he truly, or was it all an act? He knew what Illumi was capable of, or did he? Illumi couldn’t quite put his finger on why Hisoka had kept him around all this time other than the slight suspicion that he found him interesting, or he eventually wanted to fight him. Hisoka looked down at the body as he chewed on his bottom lip. 

“Well, you certainly  _ fought _ him...” Hisoka dodged the question. Illumi crossed his arms again. So this is how he was going to play. Getting information by asking more questions. But his refusal to answer was all Illumi needed to know.

“Haven’t you killed people before too? You’re no better,” snapped Illumi. Hisoka  _ couldn’t _ have known how he was feeling about this. Though a part of him suspected he  _ could _ . “You even helped  _ me _ kill people.”

“Better, worse, they’re all relative terms anyways. For me, it’s not really  _ about _ the killing,” said Hisoka, clicking his nails against the ground beneath him. “It’s about everything that leads up to it. The fight itself is more interesting than the killing. There’s something exhilarating about seeing someone’s reaction when they  _ know _ that they’ve been bested. I don’t really get that when I  _ kill _ them. Of course, there are some people that just need to be put out of there misery… I do wonder, what prompted you to  _ kill _ him?”

“He was pissing me off, you suggested I fight him, and I fought him the only way I knew how,” Illumi said, crossing his arms tighter. Hisoka glanced over at the body, then back at Illumi. There was a softness in his gaze, not one associated with someone who just found out that a murder had been committed. There was a sort of comfort in knowing that Hisoka wouldn’t judge him for this. Perhaps it was because they were both fucked up in their own particular ways, that there was this mutual understanding between them. He appreciated it, to some extent, especially how it went unspoken. 

“Got what he deserved then, I see,” said Hisoka, as if he were contemplating something. Despite all the time he spent with Hisoka, Illumi felt as if he never really figured out what went on inside the magician’s mind. He couldn’t imagine Hisoka thinking in a conventional way. His morality was at least different than those of the common world, though he hadn’t spent quite enough time in Meteor City to figure that out. He sat down next to Illumi and folded his hands n his lap. His shoulder brushed against him, briefly. 

Illumi tensed up, but clenched his jaw. Hisoka wasn’t going to hurt him now. If he wanted to hurt him, he would have done it already. He was still interesting to Hisoka, unpredictable, so therefore he was still interesting to be around. He had nothing to worry about. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t ask,” said Hisoka, digging around in his pocket before pulling out a stick of gum. He offered one to Illumi. He took it between his fingers before popping it into his mouth. It tasted just about the same way Hisoka smelled, cuing Illumi in to the fact that it was likely bungee gum. “We can just sit here until someone comes to take out the trash.”

That was one thing that Illumi actually appreciated about Hisoka: he didn’t press for details. He could tell that Illumi didn’t want to talk about this, and accepted that. He couldn’t discount the possibility that Hisoka just genuinely didn’t care about the happenings of other people, or how they felt, but it was nice and refreshing at least. 

“I’d like that,” said Illumi, chewing slowly on the gum. Hisoka slowly moved his hand towards Illumi’s lap, resting it on top of one of Illumi’s own hands. 

_ Stop. Remove it- _

Illumi tensed up, but instead of moving the hand, he let it stay there, as if he were testing out if this was threatening or not. Hisoka gave his hand a little squeeze, before letting his hand just rest there. It was a comforting feeling. For a moment, he felt as if nothing before this had even happened, he was just here, sitting in the quiet alleyway, with Hisoka. And that’s all that mattered right now, wasn’t it?

“Self defense,” said Hisoka, breaking the silence. Illumi looked over at him, curious, as the other man seemed to be staring off into the distance. “Or at least that’s what the charges said. I was thirteen at the time, I was being harassed, and something inside me just  _ snapped _ . See the thing about self defense is that bringing a knife to a fistfight doesn’t quite cut it, I likely only got off because of my age.”

“Was that the first time you killed?” asked Illumi. Hisoka glanced back over at him, yellow eyes glistening with an emotion that Illumi couldn’t quite place. 

“First intentional time.”

Illumi nodded. So to some extent, he probably understood. 

Hisoka managed to convince Illumi out of that alleyway before anyone came to take out the trash, which was probably for the better since it could have been an easy catch. He didn’t know how long he would have stayed there without that. He didn’t want to think about it, either. 

He had to tell Hisoka when he was leaving eventually. It was only common courtesy. He’d accompanied him for this long, it would be rude to leave him in the dark like this. Yet he could never find the words to tell him. Every time he wanted to, Hisoka would remind him once again why the two of them were still together, and the words stuck to the sides of his mouth as if Hisoka had personally glued them there. It shouldn’t be this hard to just  _ tell _ him. 

Maybe Hisoka had figured it out already, especially since he had disposed of the last victim already. Or maybe he was careful enough with his book keeping that he managed to slip it past Hisoka. He’d taken the third kill and the last kill himself. 

Nonetheless, Illumi found himself once again speechless when trying to talk to Hisoka outside the skate park as Hisoka watched people go up and down the ramps. Every time he opened his mouth, nothing. Not a single word. 

_ If you tell him you’re leaving, all of this will end. _

Illumi looked over back at the skating ramps, before noticing Hisoka looking at him. He pretended to ignore it, until Hisoka started to run his hand onto his thigh, stopping right before he got to his knee and giving a little squeeze. 

“What was that for?” asked Illumi. 

“I was trying to see if I could get you to flinch,” admitted Hisoka. “It’s odd, sometimes you flinch if I so much as brush against you, but when I do a specific action that causes a jerking reaction, it doesn’t work.”

“Glad to know I’m a science experiment for you,” deadpanned Illumi. Hisoka ignored him. Though, Illumi knew the answer. It was because he had control of a lot of his bodily reactions such as flinching, due to the training he went through as a child. A mere reflex test wouldn’t phase him. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was getting more and more used to Hisoka’s touch. At first, it felt foreign, like something was invading his little sanctum, but the more he warmed himself up to the idea, the more it seemed a bit pleasant, as if to remind him that there were other people who existed other than himself. 

Sometimes it was easy to see everyone else as merely objects populating his world. He didn’t socialize with them, he didn’t talk to them often, they were easily taken down, removed. But with Hisoka, he could talk to him, and he felt more real than most of the other people that merely just were  _ there _ . 

“I’m tired of watching them fail their kickflips, here come with me,” said Hisoka. Illumi shrugged and got up. The two of them walked in silence, but this time instead of going deeper into the city, Hisoka seemed to be taking him more towards the outskirts. The further out of the center they got, the less habitable buildings seemed to populate the area, and the more junk seemed to exist. Until they got to the base of what looked like an abandoned parking garage.

Was this something Hisoka thought was exciting? Perhaps there was another underground fighting ring here, or it was a drug den, or something else that was skeevy like the rest of this place. But as they began to enter the bottom, there was an eerie silence that deafened his ears. 

“Where are we going?” asked Illumi. Hisoka put his finger over his mouth as if he were keeping a secret, before their hands met and suddenly Hisoka was pulling him up those harsh concrete stairs, floor after floor after floor. Illumi felt the rush of their ascent ruffling his hair behind him. 

By the time they got to the top, Illumi could be certain that they were the only ones here. But also that there was  _ nothing _ on the top floor, either. It seemed as if the garage hadn’t held cars for a while, or perhaps someone had scavenged them for parts at this point. Illumi looked over at Hisoka as if he were waiting for an explanation, but Hisoka was silent. 

“There’s nothing up here.” Illumi crossed his arms. A thought dawned on him, the moment Hisoka looked back at him with his foxlike eyes. Had Hisoka brought him up here to kill him?

_ Run _ . 

Illumi felt a pit in his stomach as Hisoka walked closer, and closer, anticipating every slight change or shift in his posture. Was he going to reach for his cards? Was he going to fight with his hands, was he-

Hisoka passed Illumi and sat down on the edge of the building, siting down so his legs were dangling over the side. He turned around, and patted for Illumi to come sit down next to him. 

Did he really think Hisoka was going to kill him? Illumi walked over and sat down, once again noting that should he need to, he could push Hisoka off the edge and run. But Hisoka didn’t seem to have a threatening aura right now. In fact, it felt less threatening than usual.

“You can see everything from up here,” he said, pointing off into the horizon. Illumi scoffed.

“The city looks like  _ trash _ .”

“It is mostly trash, isn’t it?” joked Hisoka. “I mean, it’s got some perks, it keeps a lot of outsiders out so the community is a bit comfy cozy here, and there’s tons of strong people to fight so-”

The more Hisoka rambled, the more uncomfortable Illumi felt. Though this place was far from the standards Illumi had grown up with, it did have its sort of charm that he couldn’t ignore. And Hisoka lived here. But that just made him feel more discomfort about leaving so abruptly. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

_ Tell him, or leave now. _

Illumi tried to shake the words from his mind but they kept coming again and again as Hisoka continued to talk about the perks of Meteor City. 

“Hisoka, I-” choked out Illumi. Hisoka paused his speaking, looking Illumi directly in the eyes as if he were just  _ waiting _ for what he was going to say next. Illumi froze again, like a deer in the headlights.

_ Tell him _ . 

_ Tell him. _

_ Tell him. _

But he didn’t. The words never left his mouth. Illumi stood up, and turned around, making a few steps of progress before Hisoka grabbed his hand. Illumi stopped walking. But he didn’t turn around. 

“You’re leaving today,” said Hisoka. Illumi shut his eyes. So he knew. Of course he did. Was it that he figured out the kills were complete, or that he’d been trying multiple times to tell him about it. Illumi didn’t want to know. Both were his fault. 

“Are you disappointed that I didn’t tell you?” asked Illumi. He turned around, only to see Hisoka looking at him without a smile on his face. 

“We’ll meet again sometime, I can feel it,” said Hisoka, giving him a cheesy grin as he avoided the question. So he was. “And if we don’t, well, we’re sure to forget about each other soon enough anyways. I had a fun few weeks, I really did enjoy them.”

“Yeah…” Illumi’s voice trailed off. What was this tightening feeling he had in his chest? Guilt? He didn’t owe Hisoka anything, but now the idea of waiting until the last minute to tell him they wouldn’t be together anymore felt so wrong and bad. Was he… fond? Of Hisoka? 

_ Assassins don’t have friends- _

And he wasn’t friends with him. Illumi had figured out that much. Sure, he enjoyed his company, and he relied on him, but there was something else that made him feel as if there was maybe something different about this that let him keep Hisoka around. That certain trust he had despite Hisoka being inherently untrustworthy. The way he felt more calm when Hisoka was around. The fact that Hisoka was the only one who could touch him without him feeling uncomfortable. 

Illumi didn’t know what possessed himself to do it. If he knew a month ago what was happening right now, he wouldn’t have believed it. He  _ couldn’t _ have believed it. It was absurd, uncalled for, unprofessional,  _ unsanitary _ -

Illumi gripped Hisoka tightly on the shoulders as he pulled him closer, almost jumping into what was now a kiss. He pressed their lips together hard at first, before lightening up and pushing less with his face and more with his lips themselves. He’d never kissed before, but he’d observed people enough to know how it was done. Illumi always took kissing as foolish, leaving the body open for any sort of attack while 

_ And will never kiss again _ .  _ You don’t deserve it. He’s seen your vulnerable side, you’re just as good as dead.  _

Illumi pulled back. He couldn’t be doing this. He couldn’t be making attachments. Everything about this was wrong, it was so very very wrong. As much as he wanted him to be, Hisoka wasn’t  _ like _ him. He didn’t understand him, he was just tolerant of their differences. He didn’t understand Hisoka either. These feelings inside of him were  _ wrong _ . He couldn’t be harboring them. This wasn’t right. 

He wanted to. 

But he couldn’t. 

Illumi left without turning back. Perhaps for better, perhaps for worse. But he couldn’t sink the feeling in his mind. It was yet again another contradiction that wove its way in and out, embedding itself within him. It was uncomfortable, the two truths of the matter. He couldn’t feel this way, yet he did. He could force himself to stop, but if he could force himself, why were they still here?


	3. Chapter 3

He knew what he had to do. 

A delicate trail of blood left the small puncture wounds, almost picturesque in a morbid sense, the red liquid painting the image of death onto the pavement below. All the more reason to intentionally leave it like that, presented out into the world as an offering. Cats were inclined to kill to give a gift to the humans they cared for, how was this any different?

It would assume he was somewhat attached to Hisoka, but alas, he wasn’t exactly a cat either, the metaphor could unravel itself before it even started to bother him. And so he waited, perched up in the very same fire escape that he’d met him by, that one fateful day, watching and observing for any change in the shadows around. 

There was always the chance that Hisoka wouldn’t show, or that he had fled Meteor City days, or even weeks ago, and this was all in vain. There was nothing tying him down to the city, there was nothing here for him to return to. But for one of the few times in Illumi’s life, he felt an emotion that he previously had tried to suppress, and for good reasons. 

_ Cold. Emotionless. Calculated. A perfect killing machine. _

The less strings attached, the better. But that was only an issue if the strings were the type to pull back and get tangled. No, if he were the puppetmaster of it all, strings were beneficial. They could be pulled, and tugged, and altered to serve his purpose, his desires. And desires made things more interesting, if he could learn a thing or two from Hisoka. 

Illumi’s wide eyes were fixated on the corpse, as if it were an offering of sorts. Lying there, in the middle of the alleyway, ever changing as more blood started to seep out, staining the cement below. 

Illumi tightened his grip on his pins as he held them up to his neck, pressing them gently but firmly against the hand that had grabbed onto a lock of his overgrown hair. He didn’t bother to move, to turn his head around, lest he be disappointed by what he saw. 

_ Push him off.  _

_ Stop.  _

_ Remove it.  _

_ Ignore him. _

“I’m honestly surprised you came back.” Hisoka’s voice was always cut with two or three hidden emotions, one of which Illumi could easily pick out as excitement. He released the grip on his pins, one by one, before slipping them down his sleeve so his fingertips could be free to brush against Hisoka’s hand. The touch felt real, unlike anything else that happened in the past few months. He’d had a lot of time alone with his thoughts, all of the contradictions brewing into something unthinkable. He was confused, and thus he came back to the source of it all. 

“As am I,” said Illumi, looking down at his recent kill. “I had no confirmation you were still here.” Hisoka grinned, cupping his hand underneath Illumi’s chin to turn his head so they could face each other. His yellow eyes glistened in the reflection of the moon, always so full of life. 

“I guess that makes two of us,” said Hisoka, wrapping his other arm around Illumi’s shoulders to pull him closer. “I never did show you my apartment, did I?”

“Is that an invitation or a threat,” said Illumi. Hisoka tightened his grip. 

“Both,” he said, before, grabbing Illumi by the hand. “Do you want to go the boring route or try to roof jump to get there.”

“Roof jump, obviously,” said Illumi.

“Oh good, I lost the key to my front door a few weeks ago so I’ve had to break into my own home a few times this week anyways,” said Hisoka, rubbing his thumb tenderly against the back of Illumi’s hand. Though it was slight, Illumi felt himself flinching once again. He tried his best to relax. He wasn’t in any danger now, but was so unfamiliar with the feel of flesh against his that it excited his nervous system nonetheless. The thoughts had come back, telling him over and over again that these touches were harmful.

But they weren’t. They were soft, and caring, and Illumi could tell that Hisoka wasn’t putting him in any immediate danger with them. The more he focused on this, the less he heard everything swarming around inside his head. He could shut it out. He could make them go away. 

Stepping into Hisoka’s home was an unfamiliar feeling. He didn’t know quite what he expected, but it felt surreal, almost too plain. For starters, he lacked any sort of decorations, or anything personable, it was as if he only had the bare essentials for what could classify as a living space itself. It was peculiar, for someone who spent so much time on self expression, that there was a lack of expression in his own home. 

But why bring him here now? Illumi glanced around Hisoka, walking slowly as to keep his stance for if Hisoka made any sudden moves. Why was he prepared for a fight? Was his intuition picking up clues that evaded his mind? Those tender touches they had exchanged, had they merely been a façade? 

“You look like you’re on edge,” said Hisoka, clicking his nails against the countertop before turning around to face Illumi, head tilted slightly in a playful manner. “I mean, I’d expect that.”

“Yes, I’m cautious, what of it?” snapped Illumi. Hisoka raked his nails one by one before they were all balled up in his hand. 

“You’re going to kill me in my own home,” sighed Hisoka, but it was less out of defeat and more out of exhilaration. 

“Is that a request or an assumption?” 

“No need to be coy with me,  _ Illumi _ , you and I both know the only reason I haven’t been killed yet is because you couldn’t bring yourself to do it,” said Hisoka, in an offhand way. Illumi felt his eye twitch. If he  _ wanted _ to kill Hisoka he would have done it already. He could have done it already. He knew this. He had proved it to himself. Did Hisoka really think that he wouldn’t come back on his own volition, despite what they went through? Did he not think he was capable of that? Because he sure was. “I just don’t know if this is a job, or a personal request.”

_ Kill him _ . 

Illumi felt himself grabbing for his pins but stopped midway. Hisoka’s eager smirk said something else, he was  _ teasing  _ him, looking down on him. He was poking and prodding him, looking for an interesting reaction. If Illumi didn’t give it to him, he wouldn’t be interesting anymore, but if he did, he’d have to kill Hisoka. 

The first punch was a fake out to the right; little did Hisoka know, Illumi  _ was _ ambidextrous and clocked him from the left. The scarlet blood dripped out of his nose, staining the white shirt he was wearing beneath. Hisoka brought his hand to touch it, wiping his nose off before tasting it. 

“You’re not even worth killing,” said Illumi, tilting his chin up. “Why did you bring me here?”

“If I don’t answer will you hit me again?” asked Hisoka. “Or will you actually try to-”

Illumi reached forwards to push Hisoka onto the wall, but the magician took advantage of the slight slip in his balance and pushed him on first, wrangling his arm to the side away from their bodies before it slammed into the wall, secured in place with what Illumi could only assume was bungee gum. Illumi grabbed onto Hisoka’s shoulder tighter with his other arm before using Hisoka himself to pull his feet up so he could kick him in the chest. Hisoka broke away from him, just enough for Illumi to pull his arm free from the wall. Hisoka knew he used his pins, of course he would try to keep this in close combat. He probably underestimated Illumi’s hand to hand combat abilities, but knew he could only dodge or catch the pins. This could be used to his advantage. 

It lasted only a few more minutes, of punching, kicking, grabbing, choking. Blood was smeared on their clothes, from whose? Illumi didn’t know, probably both at this point. Everything inside of him was on fire, yet he couldn’t just bring himself to do it. He could have snapped his neck. He could have put lethal pins in him. He was straddling his waist right now, pulling Hisoka’s hands off his neck, and in a position to just end it. 

But that’s not why Hisoka had provoked him, was it. He didn’t  _ actually _ want to die, and Illumi didn’t  _ actually _ want to kill him. It was for the thrill of it, it always was. Illumi looked at Hisoka, who already seemed to have come to the realization before he did. He leaned in closer to Hisoka, expressing a gesture to lay off slightly on the fight between them. 

“Why.”

He didn’t expect to get a reaction, yet Hisoka delivered anyway. 

“I invite you into my home, and the first thing I see in your eyes is the desire to kill me,” moaned Hisoka into Illumi’s ear. “I get such a reaction going in you.”

“Why did you allow it to happen, then,” said Illumi. “You’re the one that planted the idea in my mind.” Illumi wiped some blood from Hisoka’s upper lip. He brought it into his mouth, the taste coppery and far from the sweet scent he’d come to associate with Hisoka before. This was his true form.

Hisoka leaned in closer, and Illumi lessened the grip on his shoulders, allowing him to somewhat sit up. Hisoka’s hand graced Illumi’s cheek, and immediately the feelings returned, intensely. To him, the violence felt more natural than the tenderness. But were they really that different? Every time they clashed in combat, connections were deliberate, planned, needed. How was this any different? Every touch had a different meaning, yet instead of a physical battle it was mental. What did it mean? Where was he going with this. 

Illumi couldn’t think more before Hisoka’s mouth met his, and the coppery taste he had just discovered once returned. A kiss was vulnerable, it blocked vision, and put both parties in an uncomfortably close position. It expressed a certain level of trust, trust that he wouldn’t try to pull anything right now. 

_ Kill h- _

“It takes you time to loosen up, to get into your comfort zone, I was just offering an outlet,” said Hisoka, panting as he broke out of the kiss. “That, and I was merely curious if you’d actually kill me. But it seems like there still is something left in you that hasn’t been erased. Or maybe it’s new. Can we try being human now?” 

“I’m ready to try,” murmured Illumi. 

Every nerve inside of him screamed as Hisoka’s tongue touched his skin, tasting a long strip of skin. He could turn his assassin switch off, he’d done it before. He didn’t kill Hisoka earlier, he could let himself indulge a little now. He wasn’t even on a job, why did he need to be on edge? 

Hisoka picked him up and pressed him back first onto his bed, probably realizing that his kitchen floor wasn’t the most optimal place for intimacy. Illumi reminded himself, again, and again, this wasn’t a life or death situation, he didn’t need to grab for his pins. Hisoka wasn’t going to hurt him now, they’d already hurt each other enough to cover that. It was a tradeoff, in a sense, a show of trust. Hisoka wasn’t going to kill him.

And even if he was, Illumi didn’t think this was a bad way to go out. 

Clothes came off, Hisoka’s first, and then slowly Illumi shifted out of his as if he were breaking out of a cocoon of sorts, ready to present himself.

_ You don’t deserve it. He’s seen your vulnerable side, you’re just as good as dead.  _

The thoughts continued to plague his mind but if he couldn’t shut them out he could at least choose not to listen to them. Hisoka was in just as vulnerable of a position as he was right now, that put them at an even playing field and negated the need for him to be “just as good as dead.” 

Illumi’s hands trailed down Hisoka’s skin, pausing on his thigh. He ran his fingers over it again, and again, but there was something about it that just felt off, in a sense. He knew how Hisoka felt, but this wasn’t fitting in.

“So you can feel it too,” said Hisoka, taking Illumi’s hand off his thigh. “I guess I haven’t completely perfected the technique. Invisible to the eye, afterall.”

“I want to see,” demanded Illumi. Hisoka’s expression faltered for a second but nevertheless let up. 

“Okay,” said Hisoka, pinching the side of his thigh to pull off what looked like a piece of paper before setting it down onto the nightstand. Illumi immediately brought his fingers to touch the exposed skin, tracing his fingers down the white scars that twisted their way around his leg. Something horrendous had happened here, but it was unclear of what. He couldn’t quite place it in his mind. 

“How did this happen?” asked Illumi, thumbing across them curiously as he looked back up at Hisoka. He doubted Hisoka would tell him. 

“I fell down the stairs,” said Hisoka, in an obvious lie. Illumi paid it no attention. Knowing Hisoka, he wasn’t going to get a straight answer either way. Unless the specific stairs he fell down shared more qualities with swords or meat grinders, there was no way that this could have been them, which made the lie ever more stupid to him. But that was just the thing about him. It didn’t matter what happened before that wounded him, these were merely a reminder that  _ something  _ happened. 

“I suppose you get pushed down stairs a lot,” said Illumi, sticking his hands on Hisoka’s chest to feel around for more of the textured areas. He wanted to find every last bit of Hisoka that he had hidden away, to see who he truly was. The magician went through a lot of effort to hide them from people, so he might as well put in the effort to be the only person who sees them. He wanted to peel away all the layers that he’d been using to hide himself away. That persona he put on, it might have some truths to it, but there would always be things he was hiding. “Especially since I considered pushing you down the fire escape when we first met.”

“That would have been heavenly,” said Hisoka, teasing a lock of Illumi’s hair between his fingers. Illumi brushed his hand away. 

“I need to cut it, it’s getting too long,” he said, tucking a lock behind his ear. Hisoka, pushed his lips out, a bit pouty, as he reached his hand up to cup the side of his head.

“I think it looks nice long,” he said, pushing his bangs up and out of his face. Illumi bit his bottom lip. “If you trim the bangs, I think it works. These are the only parts getting in your way.” Illumi’s sudden need for a haircut was thrown out the window. Maybe he could grow it longer, see how it looked. If he didn’t like it, he could always just cut it again, but it would take time to get long. 

His lips met Hisoka’s again, this time his turn to initiate, as his hands felt all over, everywhere. It was strange, he could  _ see _ Hisoka and take in his appearance that way, but learning who someone was through touch, or even taste, was a bit different. It was more personal. No wonder he hated it so much before, it was if any brush against him was learning things that he didn’t want to give away. 

_ Why him? _

Despite everything they had been through, it was nagging Illumi in the back of the mind. He was an assassin, trained to kill, and  _ only _ to kill. Jobs don’t always define a person, but they did define him. The question was simple. 

_ What is it about me that makes me so interesting to you? _

Illumi couldn’t bring himself to ask it. Was he afraid of the result? The fact that Hisoka might not have a reason at all, and just have been interested out of pure lust for a new experience? Why did he care what Hisoka thought anyways, he was lucky enough that he managed to meet up with him again after months of being apart, he shouldn’t get his hopes up of this becoming a real thing. His parents would certainly never allow it. In fact, if they knew he were here now, he may never be able to leave again. He’d lied to them for the first time in a while to even show up. It was easy in theory, he knew he wouldn’t be caught, but the nagging feeling that he could have been was what held him back for so long. But he’d tasted the freedom now. Next time wouldn’t be as bad. 

Illumi’s thoughts were broken up as he felt Hisoka’s cold hands touching him again, starting with his lower abdomen but slowly going up further and further until they rested right on top of his pecs.Hands trailed everywhere, the two becoming increasingly familiar with the other’s body, until they lay there, completely intertwined together. Illumi could hear Hisoka’s heart beating through their pressed up chests, and found himself counting the beat, getting the rhythm. He often had to listen for his target’s heartbeats in order to locate them, or to guess if they’d located him. But here, now, the heartbeat just meant that Hisoka was close enough to him that he could end him right here and now. His hands trailed up, grabbing Hisoka around the neck, his fingers locking around strongly as everything in his body told him to tighten his grip.

_ Kill him. _

His hands stopped squeezing. Now resting against Hisoka’s neck, he felt an overwhelming sensation rush over him, clouding all of his thoughts over in a deep fog as Hisoka’s knee buried deeper and deeper between his legs. 

“Try to kill me again and I’ll return the favor,” Hisoka whispered in his ear, his voice dropped lower than Illumi had heard it before, sending another shiver through his body. “I can easily push you back onto the floor and we can go at it until we draw blood again.”

“Is that an invitation or a threat?” murmured Illumi, eyes rolling back. He was an assassin. Assassins weren’t supposed to feel pleasure. They were supposed to execute their targets, quickly and flawlessly, with no room for error. They couldn’t have wants and desires. Yet as he lay there, himself being  _ pleasured _ , it was as if the thrill of the taboo had both completely encapsulated him and left him helpless to his ever looming thoughts of how he was  _ not _ supposed to be doing this. But he did want this. He didn’t have to listen to the thoughts. He’d killed before when he wasn’t assassinating, he could sit here and be pleasured without that as well. 

“Depends on what you do with it,” said Hisoka before Illumi flipped them over, so he was now pinning him down to the bed. Again, another vulnerable position where he could quickly suffocate him. Illumi’s hands trailed down to where his clothes lay strewn on the bed. His fingers quickly found their target. 

_ Do it.  _

_ Don’t. _

_ Do.  _

Illumi pressed one of the pins into Hisoka’s neck, his eyes widening. His heart beat fasted and faster as he looked into Hisoka’s  _ helpless _ eyes, his hand trailing up to his own neck to admire Illumi’s craftsmanship. Illumi noticed the trail of dark blood dripping onto Hisoka’s chest, splattering down and staining the sheets. It was only then that Illumi reached up and touched his own neck, feeling a familiarly sticky feeling. He touched the incision Hisoka had made with one of his cards. 

So he wasn’t messing around.

Illumi snapped out of his murderous bloodlust and backed up, getting up off of Hisoka and grabbing at his throat with both his hands in order to see just how much of his throat was cut. It was just a nick, but his hands were stained red with blood, whether his or Hisoka’s, he didn’t know. 

“I know you’re an assassin, Illumi,” said Hisoka, pulling the pin out of his neck painfully and setting it down on the nightstand. He grabbed a tissue and rubbed the puncture wound, collecting up all the blood. “Don’t think I didn’t know this before I sought you out.” 

“I couldn’t help myself,” said Illumi, softly examining his wound with his fingers. It wasn’t deep at all, just a surface level wound enough to bleed. It was deep enough that there was a good chance it would leave a slight scar. Just a chance. “It just  _ kicked in _ .” He looked down at his blood stained fingers and stuck them in his mouth. Metallic. Bitter. Like him. Like _Hisoka_.

“Illumi-”

“You can’t fix me, Hisoka. I’m always going to be like this.” Illumi looked over to the side. This was a new kind of vulnerability, the emotional kind. But it needed to be said. “My instincts, I can’t subdue them. I try my best to control my emotions, but when I can’t, it’s horribly overemotional. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  
“That’s what I like about you, though, you _indulge_ me like this,” said Hisoka, hand reaching down to stroke Illumi, bringing him back down to reality, when it should have had the exact opposite effect. 

That’s right, Hisoka had suggested this in the first place, it was him who had found Illumi and decided to hang around him. 

“I thought you wanted us to be more  _ human,” _ gasped Illumi at the touching. 

“As much as we could be,” said Hisoka.

“I can’t be doing this kind of thing. It’s not…. Right,” said Illumi, gripping the sheets beneath him. Damn it, he would be lying to himself if he ignored that he had grown rather attached to Hisoka, and had  _ feelings _ for him. But he was still an assassin. The urge to fight him, to kill him, it was still there. But he didn’t want it to be. He couldn’t trust himself to keep it together. One wrong move and he’d send pins through his neck again, and this time, maybe he wouldn’t miss their destination. 

“Is that what you think or what everyone else says,” said Hisoka, sitting amidst his tousled sheets in a way that  _ taunted _ Illumi. “Why not be selfish for a change, forget what everyone else says is right, and just exist?”

“I shouldn’t do that.” Illumi looked away. He already felt guilty for purposefully taking a job so he could see Hisoka again. “It’s not just that, it’s… What if my assassin switch flips back on when we’re sleeping together again. Or if I wake up and I notice you’re next to me. I could  _ actually _ kill you.”

“Is it normally off?” joked Hisoka, but Illumi was not amused. “Honestly, that just makes everything so much more enticing to me. The threat of being strangled in my own bed during such an  _ intimate _ time, it’s decadent.”

“You’re so fucked up,” said Illumi, with a slight smirk. 

“Look who’s talking,” retorted Hisoka. Illumi couldn’t help but agree with him. Maybe Hisoka was right. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need to change himself to be normal. There were people out there like Hisoka who found topics that went against the norm infinitesimally more interesting. And if he was willing to put up with it, then maybe something like this could work. Just maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this for hisoillu week (prompt: past) a few months ago but it turned out to be a lot longer and more complicated than I expected. Let me know what you think in the comments, I'm trying out a different writing style than I normally use. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
